


prelude to a grand romance

by cbstrike



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cheating, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, Pre-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:20:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28027662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cbstrike/pseuds/cbstrike
Summary: "Who is the real girlfriend, the real partner? The woman who has nothing left to give, or her, who is willing to give it all?"Villains are not villains in their own story.
Relationships: Matthew Cunliffe/Robin Ellacott, Matthew Cunliffe/Sarah Shadlock, Robin Ellacott & Cormoran Strike, Sarah Shadlock & Matthew Cunliffe, Sarah Shadlock/Tom Turvey
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	prelude to a grand romance

The way her fiance looked at her was almost impossible to bear, a gratitude so overwhelming, it was pathetic. _He shouldn’t love me so much_ , she thought as she pressed a gentle hand on his cheek and he closed his eyes to her touch. _He ought to love himself better_.

But Sarah reminded herself that this is what she wanted, what she deserved— a man so devoted to her, she forgets all the time she felt cheap, reminding her that she’s worth more than a comforting bosom for some men to lay their weary head against when shit got too real.

But accepting Tom’s adoration isn’t too easy tonight, not when he was too grateful over something she cannot guarantee was his at all.

“I’m so happy,” he whispered intimately, and she could see his eyes oddly bright in the darkness. _Please don’t cry, please don’t cry_.

He had beat her to it, the pregnancy test. She meant to throw it out, but he saw it and was overcome with so much joy and she hadn’t the heart to burst his bubble.

 _See?_ she told herself. _You do love him_.

If she didn’t love Tom she’d tell him the truth-- that she didn’t want children, that she _definitely_ didn’t want to have his. The only reason she’s thinking of keeping this one is the very strong possibility (hope?) that it isn’t a _Turvey_.

 _I’m horrible_ , she admitted to herself. And yet the vague image of a beautiful baby boy, dark-haired and light-eyed, in football jersey brimming with promise that the world will be at his feet wafted in her mind. Tom Turvey wouldn’t produce such impeccable offspring, she was convinced. If it was Matt’s…

Tom sniffled and pressed his lips to her temple.

 _Would Matt want it_? she wondered as she allowed Tom to move over her, hand shifting between them under the covers. _Would Matt want me now?_

* * * * *

“Who is _that_?” said Sarah, pointing out the strapping young man in the middle of the rugby pitch who just made a spectacular catch. “Oh!” she squeaked as he immediately got tackled by the opposing team. “Oh dear!” she worried, hoping he hadn’t just mangled his pretty face.

Her friend, Joanne, looked at the direction she was pointing. “The tall one? I think that’s Matt.”

Watching a rugby match isn’t her idea of a Saturday, but Joanne promised to introduce her to her jock boyfriend’s fit mates. Not a lot of attractive people enrolled in her Art History program. Rich, but she isn’t looking for a marriage, she’s looking for a shag.

“I wouldn’t mind getting tackled by him,” she joked.

Joanne laughed. “Yeah, he is pretty, isn’t he? But George says he’s got a girl back home. Very loyal to her, apparently.”

Sarah cackled. “Yeah right! Give me a an hour with him and he’ll forget he’s unavailable.”

“You are such a slag, Sarah!” Joanne exclaimed. “But okay, I’ll introduce you. Let’s see if your fanny will work any better than all the other girls he’s turned down.”

Sarah knew for a fact that her fanny was top notch, and this Matt only had to meet her to know it, too.

“Here you go!” said Tom, who showed up out of nowhere and handed her a pint. “You’re sweet,” she said absently, accepting the proffered drink, attention on the handsome Matt whose shirt revealed delicious v-cut abs.

“Wooh!” Sarah screamed with the crowd. “Go Matt!”

* * * * *

“Let’s get out of here,” whispered Jason as he ran his tongue down Sarah’s ear. She was currently sat on his lap, in an armchair at the commons. She squirmed and giggled because she was supposed to. She doesn’t really like it when guys tongue her ear, but Jason in particular is very into it, and she didn’t want to seem weird to reject something so mild.

She felt his hand snake up her sweater. She tittered, looking around the packed room. No one was paying them attention other than Tom whom she noticed was giving them covert looks. _He really is a creep_ , she thought, eyes elsewhere and feeling a little bolder seeing that other couples were being a lot more lewd in other corners.

“C’mon,” Jason urged again, rough palm caressing her stomach, tongue still in her ear.

She didn’t want to go just yet, intending for Matthew—who was playing pool at the other end of the room—to see her, even (especially?) in this state. Make him jealous, make him see she is a woman desired. He ran his fingers through his perfect hair. She could’ve sworn his eyes landed on her then, and… was that jealousy?

She felt Jason’s large palm squeeze a tit and finally squirmed in earnest now. “We’re in public!” she whispered sternly, annoyed, worried over what Matt thinks of her now. She wanted to look game, but not easy! Jason grunted and quite unceremoniously pushed her off of him and huffily left the room.

 _Shit._ She didn’t mean for Jason to leave her. “Jason!” she called out, running after him to apologize.

He would only forgive her if she blew him in his convertible. She didn’t like that it was so public, but he promised to park somewhere deserted, and if she was ever going to blow a guy in a car, it might as well be a Porsche.

He even kissed her on the mouth after, and she mistook it for love.

* * * * *

“Good!” Matt declared as Sarah wailed on Joanne’s shoulders.

Sarah wasn’t quite sure what happened with Jason. He hadn’t been returning her calls for about a week, and then she saw him today drive off with another girl in his car.

“Matt!” Joanne admonished, stroking Sarah’s hair and comforting her.

“You’re well shot of that arsehole, Sarah.” Matt insisted. Sarah opened her swollen eyes, saw Matt looking earnestly at her. It hurt to have been dumped so cruelly, sure, but part of her was thrilled that Matt thought she was better off. Maybe even with him?

“Yeah, Sarah.” Tom interjected. “You deserve better.”

She didn’t even know Tom was also in the room. He moved to sit next to her, patting her on the shoulder. She cringed at his touch, wishing Tom left her alone.

And then Matt’s face cracked into a smile, so handsome it cheered her up, until—

“See?” Matt quipped. “Tom’s already lining up to take his place!”

Sarah cried some more.

* * * * *

They had a class together, an elective Matt mistook for an easy grade. He was terrible, and Sarah was secretly thrilled over it as he asked her to tutor him.

“Ugh,” Matt whined, thumping his beautiful head against the table. “I’m gonna effin’ drop this shit class soon. Seriously.”

Sarah giggled, she hoped prettily. “You can’t,” she reminded him gently. “It’s too late now.”

She considered his face—perfect jaw, perfect hair. She longed to run her fingers through it.

He turned to her, looking suddenly thoughtful.

“Do I have something on my face?” Sarah asked, alarmed, hand flying to cover her mouth in case she had some spinach in her teeth.

Matt laughed. “No, you’re perfect.” He said, and then, “Can I ask you a favor?”

“Anything.” said Sarah, when she meant to say ‘sure’. But he grinned at that and if she thought her heart was fit to burst when he called her perfect, she was amazed to still be alive when she was sure her heart just exploded.

“I don’t know what to get Robin for Christmas,” he started, and Sarah felt her heart deflate like a balloon.

His eyes wandered over her body. “That’s a nice jumper, where’d you get it?”

“It’s Burberry.” She muttered, crestfallen.

* * * * *

“The guys are inviting us for drinks,” said Joanne after checking her phone. She wordlessly handed Tom some clothes she picked out before pulling even more off the rack.

“Hm,” said Sarah, trying not to sound too obvious that she was thrilled.

They headed to the counter soon after, with Tom paying for their shopping. Joanne was seeing Tom now, after they all found out this mousy friend of theirs was loaded. Sarah vaguely wondered if they were having sex at all, or of Tom was just content that someone who looked like Joanne would be seen in public with him.

Once at the pub, George put his arms around her. Sarah liked George—handsome, sporty, popular. His hotness made up for how daft he was. She’d long since decided that college boys are for college, and ought to have as much fun as she can. _Forever_ guys can wait.

Her eyes fell to Matt, who was off in one corner downing pint after pint as though a man determined. “What’s up with him?” she asked George.

He shrugged. “Lady problems.”

She extricated herself from George and sat next to Matt.

“You okay?”

He lifted his head up and even with eyes so sad, she liked how he smiled at the sight of her. “Sar’ah!” he hiccuped.

“George said you and Robin are still having problems?”

She’s never met this Robin, but she is such a point of fact about Matthew that the mere idea of her hung around the friend group like she was part of it. She detested it, was jealous of it, and tried to temper her excitement that this might be it; a permanent severing of _the_ Matt And Robin. It’s unnatural to still be dating your childhood sweetheart at uni. It’s very small-town; uncharacteristic for someone like Matthew who was destined to live a big and successful life.

 _You’re well shot of her_ , she imagined telling Matthew like how he told her that she was well shot of that handsy arsehole she dated last term.

“Says w’ need ter talk,” said Matthew, half slurring, gripping his phone tightly.

She tried to suppress her thrill, imagining now that she was going to break up with George, that she will be the shoulder Matt will cry on, and they will eventually, naturally get together, and their friends will chuckle and roll their eyes and say that it was about time, that they were only surprised it took them this long when it had been meant to be since the moment they met.

She put a hand on his shoulder. “It might not be that bad,” she said because it’s what you’re supposed to say.

Matt huffed. “She’s sick of me.” He slumped, face twisting as though about to cry, but pulled himself together just as quickly. He wouldn’t want to look too devastated infront of the boys.

“She said that?” Sarah asked, hating this Robin for making Matthew feel this way.

He shrugged. “Doesn… doesn’t tell me anything,” said Matthew. “Doesn’t like hearing about you, about the lads, rugby… only wants to talk about her bloody course… doesn’t tell me about her friends, if there’s any bloke making moves on her…”

“Maybe there’s nothing to tell,” she said sensibly, disbelieving it herself. She’s seen Robin’s photos. Even she had to admit that she was… not ugly.

Matt smirked, equally disbelieving that no bloke has hit on Robin at uni.

“She probably just doesn’t want you to worry,” _Why am I helping this bitch out?_ Sarah thought, but Matt was in such a sorry state, she would say anything to cheer him up, even reassuring him that his girlfriend from home probably isn’t cheating on him.

She didn’t know Robin at all, and maybe she _was_ the sort of cow to sleep around on someone like Matthew. But Sarah knew that if she ever had the privilege to be loved by beautiful Matthew Cunliffe, she’ll do everything in her power to keep him.

“No, she’s sick of me!” Matt exclaimed again, slumping before downing the remainder of his pint in one. Some spilled across his jaw and Sarah couldn’t help but wipe it off with her hand.

“C’mon,” she urged. “Let’s get you back to your place.”

He followed immediately, taking the hand she offered. She felt butterflies in her stomach when he squeezed.

“I’ll drive Matt home then come back, okay?” she whispered to George amid the boisterous laughter of all the other jocks around there with them. He only nodded, twisting his head a tick to kiss her quickly on the mouth before turning his full attention back to the idiotic story one of their teammates was telling.

It took them awhile to find Matthew’s car, finding it poorly parallel parked in front of some seedy alleyway. She wondered if Matthew had already been drunk before arriving at the pub.

When she got in the driver’s seat, she heard the passenger’s seatbelt click off, and before she knew what was happening, Matthew was on her, mouth to hers, kissing her roughly and reeking of beer.

She twisted away, if only to draw breath, surprised at what just happened. “Matt—!”

Matt hung his head, and finally cried in earnest.

She felt like crying, too.

* * * * *

There was a huge bouquet of roses waiting outside her door the next morning. She didn’t know if she was being apologized to, or wooed, but she felt stung by last night, and maybe even a little used. She won’t be a warm body to be tided over on—not even by Matthew Cunliffe.

They still hung out, but never just the two of them. She didn’t know what happened with Robin until their finals, when Matthew so dramatically left in the middle of their French Literature exam.

“I think we should go,” Sarah suggested to Joanne a few weeks after Matthew disappeared and has yet to return.

“Go where?”

“To Masham, check up on Matt.”

From the reflection on the bathroom mirror, Joanne eyed Sarah for a beat. And then she started re-applying her make-up. “It was his girlfriend who was raped, Sarah. Not him. He’s fine.”

Sarah found it mildly distasteful, the way Joanne said it so casually.

“But he’s going to get chucked out if we don’t help him.” Sarah protested.

Joanne shrugged, checking her reflection in the mirror. “Tom’s been doing some of his work.”

“What?” said Sarah, laughing a little at the ridiculousness of it. Tom really is a doormat.

“You know Tom,” said Joanne rolling her eyes. “Worships the ground Matt walks on.”

* * * * *

When Matthew returned, he didn’t look any different, as though he had just come from a refreshing summer vacation. But Sarah knew better. He was withdrawn, always excusing himself to call home, and then going back to Masham every weekend without fail.

 _He must really love her_ , Sarah thought about Matthew’s newfound devotion for the girl from home. _Unlike this lump flopping on top of me like a fish out of water_.

Sarah pushed George off of her, having had enough of his imprecise thrusting. He groaned at the sudden loss. “What the—” he exclaimed.

Sarah turned her back to him, seething with anger, displeased and dissatisfied, aching for a man— _any_ man—to treat her a little less worse.

George kept going without her, determined to climax as all men seemed to be. It wasn’t until morning that she found out he chose to soil her favourite sweater—the one she was wearing when Matthew said she was perfect—and dumped his dumb arse within the hour.

* * * * *

Upon Joanne’s insistence, Sarah went to Tom and Matt’s place to swipe some of Tom’s weed. Of all their friends, he was the one who had the most and would mind the least if some of it went missing.

She supposed Matt was predictably in Masham again, checking up on poor agoraphobic Robin. She felt sorry for the girl, truly she did. She also tried not to think about Matt anymore, who she’d decided was a lost cause, far in too deep to be worth pining over.

He was a little tiring now, spending all his time studying or flitting to and from Yorkshire, or worrying about Robin. He even quit rugby, which Sarah thought was key to his appeal. He’s still fucking sexy, of course, jogging through the quad and enjoying the freshmen drooling all over him, but he’s not as popular anymore. More nerd than jock, which Sarah convinced herself to find boring.

So she was surprised to hear Matt at home, seemingly arguing with someone.

“Please, Rosie—” he sounded as though begging. “If you just see me—” and then a clatter, and then a loud “Shit!”

“Matt?”

Matthew took a deep breath, trying to temper his agitation.

“What’s wrong?”

He sighed deeply, his whole body looked like it would melt at the weight of whatever he’s carrying.

“She doesn’t want to see me,” he said, falling on the couch. “She’s been refusing to see me.”

“Oh, dear.” Sarah cooed, sitting next to him and urging him for a hug. He relented. His toned arms feels so nice around her body. “I’m sorry.”

“I understand that she can’t bear being touched,” said Matthew, pained and confused. “But not even meeting me? Not even letting me see her? Some weekends she seems fine, you know? Almost like the old her… but then I don’t know. Like something about her broke again or something.”

She didn’t really know what to say, but Matt seemed like he needed to let off some steam.

“It’s the court case. She’s had to live through it again, and it’s like we’re back to square one.”

Sarah pulled Matt’s head to rest on her shoulder.

“I just want to help her, you know? But she’s not letting me in. I don’t want to get in the way of her trauma, but it’s…” his voice started to crack. “It hasn’t been easy, these last six months.”

Matthew lifted his head and Sarah shifted automatically, hugging Matt again who sighed in her arms.

“You’re a good man, Matthew.” She said, pulling away to look at him. She wanted him to know that she means it from the very bottom of her heart. “I don’t know anyone who’d do what you did, what you’re doing.”

They were looking at each other, and Sarah could feel her heart pounding, could hear it echoing within her. “You’re so brave.”

She felt Matt’s sudden grip on the back of her head, felt the press of his searing kiss. She didn’t stop him then, didn’t want to. It was wrong. They knew that, but it felt right; as though an inevitability is finally coming to fruition. It was always her and Matthew, she was convinced of it. And the beginning is mere detail, what’s important was that it was finally happening.

She doesn’t know sex like this, Sarah mused, as Matt kissed her open-mouthed and soft when he thrusted inside of her. It was slow, and gentle, and if it was a little sad, she tried not to think about it. It was rather uncomfortably quick, and he apologised. It had been so long for him, and in his vulnerability, he said he’s never been with anyone else. Sarah figured as much. It was part of his wholesome charm— the small town, the conventional handsomeness, the long-term girlfriend.

“Do you regret it?” she asked boldly, as she laid her head against his bare chest, lying on his cozy bed, and staring at him staring at the ceiling, face impassive.

She thought she saw a nanosecond of panic flash across his face. But Matthew looked at her and smiled. “No.”

She took it as a promise because she wanted to, even though she was smart enough to know that he was probably lying.

* * * * *

For all intents and purposes, she and Matthew were boyfriend and girlfriend. They were always together, she slept over at Matt’s almost every night. They sat next to each other at cozy booths with friends. He would order for her, would ask about her day, would even ask after her sick cat from back home. Sure, there was no PDA, and upon her request their friend group just took their situation in stride. There was still _her_ to consider in all this. Miss Girl From Home who was too broken to be in a relationship, and yet too broken to be broken up with.

Sarah bore it like a champ whenever Matthew would go back to Masham, because whenever he returned, he was very kind to her, sweet. And then for the next five days they would pretend there wasn’t that hanging over them, spending all day together, making love all night.

A few weeks into this new setup, she was convinced that Robin was the other woman, not Sarah. Sarah got him five days out of the week, and the little time Girl From Home spends with him, she can’t even bear to be touched. Who is the _real_ girlfriend, the real partner? The woman who has nothing left to give, or Sarah, who is willing to give it all?

“Maybe I won’t go back this weekend,”

“Yeah?” asked Sarah, thrilled, kissing his smooth and bare chest.

“Unless you want me to go?” he asked. She knew he was fishing for adulation, but she doesn’t mind, ready to give it.

She pulled herself up and cupped the perfect face she always knew was meant for her, and kissed him. “Of course I want you to stay.”

She looked into his face, so handsome she could hardly bear it, almost in disbelief that she finally has him. She wanted to tell him that she loved him, but just in case he wasn’t ready to say it back, she thought better of it.

* * * * *

She felt someone shake her shoulder rather violently, and she sat up and squeaked in surprise. Matthew pressed his palm firmly on her mouth. “Shh,” he looked panicked. “Rob’s here.” He said urgently, looking behind to check that the door remained closed.

“You have to get out of here!” he said, digging around the pile of discarded clothes on the floor to find hers.

As her knickers hit her on the face, and then felt her dress follow soon after, the only thing Sarah had room for was humiliation.

* * * * *

Matthew didn’t even give her the decency to let her break it off with him. He had been the one to tell her that they can’t keep doing what they’ve been doing; that it was unfair to Robin, that he couldn’t believe he could ever do something like what he did as though it was a one-time thing.

She was devastated, and angry, because for all of Matthew’s protests, she knew, _knows_ that he has feelings for her.

But fuck Matthew if he thought she’d grovel! She convinced herself that bad boyfriends are part of the uni experience. Teaches her what she doesn’t want in men. And she doesn’t want boring boys who don’t have the balls to get out of loveless relationships.

That was all. A bad boyfriend. Like that arsehole, Jason and that idiot, George.

For an agoraphobe, Robin sure did drop in a lot after that first time. She’s very reserved for the most part, not very interested in Matthew’s stories, nor his friends. Looking lost and a little bored whenever Sarah teed Matt up to recount an anecdote. She seemed determined to be apart from his friends, but Sarah didn’t worry too much about it anymore. Matthew deserved an equally dull girlfriend.

“Have you got a boyfriend, Sarah?” Robin asked her the second—or was it third?—time she came down to see Matt.

Sarah laughed, throwing a covert glance at Matthew who was feigning indifference. _Let’s see you ignore this!_

“Yeah, his name is Rolf. He’s in real estate.” said Sarah airily, inviting more questions as she plopped the Berkin that Rolf gave her just because she asked. Joanne predictably grabbed the bag to look at it closely. “Is this for real? Did he give this to you?”

“He said he would fly me to Paris last weekend but was called away, so he got me that instead.”

“Knew you’d end up some fat cat’s sugarbaby, Sarah.” quipped George. Sarah rolled her eyes, trying not to feel too hurt by the remark. Her eyes landed on Robin whose mouth twisted. She wondered if she was judging her.

“Alright Georgie,” Matt interjected, just as incensed. “Shut up.”

A thrill shot through Sarah at Matt’s chivalry.

 _Matt’s just like the rest of them,_ said Sarah. _He’s just like the rest of them_. Maybe if she repeated it enough times, she’d believe it.

* * * * *

Rolf ended up being Sarah’s longest relationship, housing her in a beautiful flat in London and getting her a job at Christie’s. It was hard to leave a man with infinite means, even when he’s the very opposite of kind.

“Why don’t you just leave him?” Matthew suggested, hand around Robin as they met up at a pub on Charing Cross Road.

“Ha!” Sarah laughed. “He will literally kill me! I’m pretty sure he’s friends with the Russian mafia!”

“Are you in trouble, Sarah?” asked Robin, again with an earnestness that made Sarah want to roll her eyes. She waved her concern away. “No, I’m fine. He moved me to this gorgeous flat in Mayfair, way better than his place in Knightsbridge.”

Both Robin and Matt looked at her with concern. She will not take pity, especially not from Mr. And Mrs. Wholesome who’s only ever been with each other.

“Enough about me,” Sarah insisted. “How’s the job hunt going, Rob?”

* * * * *

When Rolf left her for literally a younger model, Sarah’s first thought was ‘Thank fuck!’. He can be someone else’s problem now. She was homeless all of thirty minutes before Tom swooped in and offered her a place to crash. He was sweet, preparing a romantic home cooked dinner to seduce her. It didn’t really work… or maybe it did, because she let him have sex with her anyway, mostly as a sort of ‘advance’ for letting her crash at his place indefinitely.

It was predictably mediocre, which was refreshing from the years she’s had to stomach Rolf’s creepy old man kinks. She just had to close her eyes and picture someone more beautiful, that’s all. Pulling at Jacques Burger’s soft curls… and then she was thinking about other rugby players, and then it was Matthew Cunliffe she was imagining between her legs. That got her over the edge, and Sarah tried not to heave at the sight of Tom looking smug, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand like a little boy who’d just had a juicy peach.

* * * * *

“I know you can’t love me as much as I love you, and that’s okay with me…” Tom blubbered on bended knee. She was mortified, for this to be happening at The Ritz, with snooty patrons looking at them as though they were being vulgar. Well, Tom certainly was. She could see his bald patch from this angle. The thought of her children being bald was enough to dissuade her from saying yes. The thought of having Tom Turvey’s children at all was making her rethink her entire life that led to this point… but people were staring.

“Yes!” she said, feigning glee and allowing Tom to hug her, genuinely joyous it was very sad.

It might have been the shortest engagement in history, with Sarah taking it back in the car, saying she had been put on the spot, and they’ve only been dating six months.

The row had been the worst they ever had, Tom finally showing some backbone and fighting back. She was damn near close to thinking it was hot, the way he was yelling at her, when they were interrupted by her phone ringing.

It was Matthew.

Sarah glared at Tom as she put the phone against her ear. Tom looked equally livid, but also… was it _smug_?

“Hello?”

“Oh, shit!” said Matt. “Who’d I ring? I meant Tom!” he said, sounding utterly exhilarated. “Ah, er...” he seemed to teeter, on the verge of saying something. For a split second Sarah imagined Matthew’s exuberance was over finally leaving Robin. He’d been saying they’ve been having a few rocky weeks.

“Fuck it!” Matt said finally. “Rob said yes!”

Matt’s glee was so loud, Sarah knew Tom also heard it. Smug look on his face, still.

“Oh!” she heard herself bleat in a pitch so high she hoped it sounded surprised but thrilled. “What happy news!” Every syllable she uttered felt like her vocal chords being yanked out one by one.

“Suppose you did too, yeah? Helped Tom out with the ring. You know him, no taste.” Matt chuckled. “We should celebrate, the four of us. Drinks tomorrow. Oh—got to dash, Rob’s out of the shower.”

And then he hung up.

Sarah, in utter shock, just stared at Tom with his chubby face and thinning hair and Tom Ford suit. She cast around the leather interiors of his Jaguar, eyes landing on the diamond ring she chucked onto the dashboard in her rage. It was huge, and pretty, and she remembered that Matt helped pick it out.

It dawned on her that she had been proposed to at The Ritz. That before this evening Tom had paid for her to spend the day at the spa, that he had brought her to Vashti last week and told her to pick out anything she wanted.

She wondered how Matt did it, and where. She wondered what Robin’s ring looked like. Did Matt buy her a dress? Scheduled her a spa day? She nearly laughed to herself. Matt’s idea of a fancy restaurant was Mango Tree, poor thing. She’d been to the Ealing flat, she knew Robin wasn’t bringing in money. Her ring is probably something ghastly. Sapphire, maybe.

But as she stared at the ring and remembered the thrill in his voice, she knew that even if Matthew Cunliffe proposed to her in front of a chippy with nothing but an onion ring and his beautiful smile, he’d have her forever.

She knew she’ll eventually marry Tom Turvey. She knew she could do worse than ending up with a rich bore who adored her. But she will not get engaged now. Not at the very worst night of her life.

* * * * *

“He doesn’t look anything like Jonny Rokeby!” Sarah giggled, looking at the photo Matt pulled up on his new tablet.

Matt smirked. “Tell me, doesn’t he look like a dirty old man?”

Truth be told, he doesn’t. Not really Sarah’s type herself—she preferred pretty boys--but he isn’t terrible looking. He’s actually quite sexy in that man’s man sort of way. Like he could throttle her and she wouldn’t mind…

“Sarah!”

“Oh, sorry!” Sarah apologized, realising she must’ve zoned out.

Matthew rolled his eyes, very agitated, pulling his tablet back from Sarah. He sulked over it, using his stylus now to give the photo of Cormoran Strike an eyepatch.

“And he’s paying Robin pennies!” he blurted out of the blue.

“But isn’t it temporary?”

“Yeah…” said Matt, looking concerned.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think she enjoys it.” he said, genuine worry on his face.

Sarah couldn’t help by laugh. “ _Enjoy i_ t? Being someone’s secretary? _”_

Matt shrugged.

“Oh,” Sarah said, appalled. “Matt, you can’t let Robin stay a secretary. That’s…” She felt sorry for Matt just then, who she knew worked hard and who deserved a go-getter; someone whose ambition complemented his.

“Embarrassing?” said Matt. _Right in one_.

She patted Matt on the shoulder. “I’m sure she’s just a little dazzled—”

Matt glared at her.

“He _is_ Jonny Rokeby’s son. But I’m sure she’ll get over it. Doesn’t she have an interview for a marketing job at that theatre company?”

Matt nodded morosely. “How’s she gonna get it, she hasn’t got a degree!” he said, spitefully.

Sarah recalled Matthew urging Robin not to return to uni, worried over what else could happen to her, but even without Matt’s intervention there is something quite pitiable about Robin which affect Matthew like a weight dragging him down.

“I’m sure she will.” she said. Empty words to comfort her friend. Of course Robin won’t get it. Who’s gonna hire a uni drop-out when even Oxbridgers can’t get their foot in anywhere these days?

Matthew groaned, scribbling his stylus over on the photo of Cormoran Strike. He was looking at her now, and she knew Matthew well enough to know his looks. Right now he’s saying, _why can’t she be more like you?_

_Tough tits, Matt. You picked the wrong girl._


End file.
